


Valentine's Day

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Dean wears that coat. You know the one.You tried not to stare when he came out of the motel room earlier in the morning, but– okay, you’re only human.The worst part is – well, not the worst part – is that he knows how good he looks in it. The whole day he’s been sauntering around, that goddamn smirk on his face, and you can’t decide if you want to punch him, or kiss him.





	Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> For reference:
> 
> Yep. You're welcome.

Dean’s wearing that coat again. 

You tried not to stare when he came out of the motel room earlier in the morning, but– okay, you’re only human. 

The worst part is – well, not the _worst_ part – is that he _knows_ how good he looks in it. The whole day he’s been sauntering around, that goddamn smirk on his face, and you can’t decide if you want to punch him, or kiss him.

(You definitely want to kiss him)

“Gotta hit up the library, kid.” He says, getting back in the Impala after he talked to a witness. “We should find out more about the history of that house.”

“Uh huh.” You agree, distracted as you watch him loosen his tie and pull off his coat.

He snaps his fingers in front of you. “Are you listening to me?”

You snort. “You sound like my Mom.”

He glares. “That’s hilarious.”

Dean pulls away from the curb and you watch as he glances in the mirrors and rests his right wrist on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the window. That’s another thing – whenever he wears this coat, he ends up getting too warm and takes it off halfway through the day, leaving him in a dress shirt with the sleeves inevitably rolled up. Another favorite Dean look.

You’re trying not to stare at the veins on his arms, you really are, but they’re _right there_. 

After a few minutes, Dean pulls down a quiet street and puts the car in park. Your brow furrows as you look around. “Am I dumb, or is this dump the library?” You gesture at a house on the other side of the street.

Dean shuts off the engine and turns to face you, his jaw ticking. “Kid, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to take you right here in the car.” 

Your stomach swoops and your eyes widen. You thought you were being subtle enough to get away with basically objectifying him all day. You already feel bad enough for staring at him like he’s just there for your viewing pleasure. Also – okay, you’re embarrassed for being caught. 

The thing is – he doesn’t look mad. No, he doesn’t. He looks… he looks _intrigued_? It’s hard to say. He literally just said he would fuck you in the Impala, but that muscle in his jaw is still ticking.

“Sorry?” You reply, not sure what else to say to him. 

He stares at you, and then lets out a disbelieving laugh. “ _Sorry_? That’s it?”

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t really know what to–” He cuts you off by hooking a hand behind your neck and pulling you in for a hard kiss. His tongue curls into your mouth as you open instantly for him, and the small whimper of surprise you let out seems to spur him on as he fists his hand in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp and arch against him.

Jesus, you really are hard up for it. It helps that it’s _Dean_ and you’ve thought about this at least seven hundred times since you’ve been working together. 

Soon you’re both just panting against each other’s mouths, and you pull away, desperate to get some air. It doesn’t deter him much; he just moves his mouth to your neck, which– _wow_ you never knew your neck was such a sensitive area, but this is really doing it for you.

His hands tilt your jaw upwards to give him better access, and he sucks a mark against your pulse point, making the most _embarrassing_ noise come out of you. He definitely likes it, if the growl he lets out against your skin is anything to go by. You want to hear it a million more times.

Your blood is like white hot fire in your veins, especially when Dean pulls away, his eyes dark. “Gonna floor it back to the motel, and then I’m going to fuck you.” He informs you, and your breath catches. 

“Good plan.” You say, and he grins at you, boyish and wolfish at the same time.

He really does floor it - you’re worried you might get pulled over on the way to the motel, and you both say a prayer and apologize for being glad that Sam’s stuck at the bunker with the flu. 

You like to think you’re acting totally casual as you both get out of the Impala and walk to the door of the hotel, Dean shrugging on his coat to hide his _problem_ as you head to your room, but as soon as you’re inside, Dean’s slamming the door shut behind you and pushing you against it, his body a solid weight against you as he takes your mouth in a devouring kiss. 

You reach for him, pulling him closer by his belt, and he groans into your mouth at your aggressiveness. _Noted_ , you think to yourself. You push his peacoat off his shoulders, and start to work on his buttons as he busies himself with that spot on your neck again. 

When his shirt falls open, you place a kiss on his collarbone, causing him to tilt his head back a bit as he clearly struggles between wanting to watch you and wanting to give in to sensation. 

“ _Fuck_.” He says, his voice gravelly. “Do you have any idea at all what you do to me?” 

“Tell me.” You say, watching as his eyes darken at your demand. 

“Feeling your eyes on me like that all day was driving me insane. Could practically feel it.” 

“It’s your fucking outfit.” You mutter, your hands pulling his shirt free from his pants and pushing it off his shoulders. He’s got yours free too, and you’re both standing there half-dressed, staring at each other. 

“Brings out my eyes.” He says, the eyes in question sparkling with humor, and you grin at him like an idiot, unable to help yourself. His hands reach for your face, uncharacteristically gentle, and his thumb runs over your cheekbone. Your heart clenches. “Wanna touch you.” He whispers, and you nod quickly.

“Me too. You were telling me how great I am?”

He snorts, pulling you away from the door and leading you towards the bed. He sits down when gets there, pulling you into his lap. “That. That’s one of the things I like the most.” 

You blush, and he uses your moment of distraction to kiss you again, his hands roaming all over you, stoking the fire between the two of you again. His mouth resumes blazing a path down your neck, and you run yours through his hair, making him grunt against your skin.

“Wanna do so many things to you, I can’t make up my mind.” He mutters, and you roll your hips against him involuntarily. His hands fly to your hips to encourage your movement, and you both let out groans of pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He says, eyes glazed over. “Take what you need.” 

“Dean–” You choke out his name, feeling almost mindless with need. You’re not sure you can wait for him to be inside of you. “I want you. Please, Dean, please–”

His eyes darken even more at your pleas and you groan when he kisses you again, slow and hard, like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing. He undresses you slowly, pressing kisses to every inch of your skin that he can reach until you almost want to cry from how much you ache for him. 

You do the same for him, reveling in how he reacts to you. You never knew if he’d be vocal or quiet and intense, and he’s a little bit of both. It’s perfect. 

Finally, you’re poised over him, and he’s looking at you like– like you’re his salvation. There’s no masking the adoration and awe in his green eyes, and you’re pretty sure you look the same way. Sure, this started out as pure lust, but you’ve got feelings for him, no matter how much you deny it.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, I’m–” he says, groaning as his eyes screw shut when you sink down on him. He stretches you perfectly, just like you knew he would, and you both take a second to adjust, barely breathing. “You’re so fucking hot.” He mutters, his face buried in your neck.

Slowly, you start moving, and he helps you find your rhythm, hands on your hips to steady you. You pick up the pace when his mouth finds yours again, the fire between you two sparks back into action, your toes curling as he finds that spot inside of you again, and again, and again. 

“Dean.” You say, incapable of anything other than that, and he seems to understand, pulling you down on him _hard_. You see stars, and he growls as you roll your hips, grinding against him with every thrust.

“Fuck. Keep doing that. Yes, baby.” He mutters, you can’t _stand_ the way his voice sounds right now, the wrecked quality of it going straight to your core. You want him to sound like this, always. “Come on, come on, I wanna see it. I want to see you fall apart for me.” He whispers, and you lose it.

He keeps talking, keeps telling you how good you feel and how tight and wet you are, and you shake against him as you come, pulling him with you. You feel him stiffen and then groan into your skin as he thrusts into you hard a few times as he finishes, both of you panting as you struggle to regain your bearings. 

“Jesus fuck.” He says, after, and you grin. “You think you’re so cute.” He says, watching you warily, but his eyes are sparkling again. 

“Oh, I _know_ it.” 

He exhales shakily, a smile forming on his lips as he looks you over. “You look good like this.” 

“Feel good like this, too.” You tell him, feeling him harden inside you, causing you to whimper. 

“Up for another round?” He asks, smirking. “Or do you want some alone time with my coat?”

“God.” You shake your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“You think I’m super sexy, so.” He shrugs. “For the record, that skirt you’re wearing has been in danger of being ripped off for the last few months.” 

Your skin starts to tingle again. “Oh yeah?”

He hums in agreement. “Mhmm. You give me another minute picturing you in it and I’ll make you come again.” He promises, and you kiss him hard in response. 

You get the feeling it’s going to be a long night, but you’re definitely not complaining. 

All thanks to that fucking coat.


End file.
